Sharon

Thousands of years I trod – as I tread this walk of life –
From the depths kissing the Lankan crest –
Far, further ahead into the darkning Malayan depths.
I have made the distance.
My feet has smelt the greying sands of Asoka's land, Bimbisaar.
I have walked through the darkness of Vidarbha.
A tired soul am I  –
All around me the froth, so lively, brims over.
But, for a moment’s breath you bequeathed unto me –
Suddenly, Sharon.

Her hair – lost, like lost day’s darkest nights,
Her face sculptured timeless – flawless, granite.
For puzzled Ulysses and his rudderless ship,
The tempt of the sirens, in his eyes –
Unto the green shores – deep inside the cinnamon island…

My eyes have touched her, thus – through the darkness.
And she has asked, “Where have you been so long?”
All, as she looked up through the naked forest of her dark eyelashes,
It was you, Sharon.

In the sound of dews – the night ascends.
The birds of prey shed feathers drenched of sunshine.
As The Light of world dims away –
The storybook comes alive.
Then unto the fireflies, nights glitter anxious.

The birds return home –
The rivers too –
Encore Life!

Darkness remains –
The face –
Sharon.

*****

(A relatively literal translation: My tribute unto the greatest work of Jibanananda Das – ‘Banalata Sen'. Some parts of it are twisted – based on my limited understanding. But with eons of languages apart, I guess it is important that the metaphors stand out starkly. However, this is nowhere close to the oceans of symbolism in his original. Add to that a few other gratifying suggestions as well! The bengali version follows.).

Cytoplasm

It is not often I sit down to write – to write something substantial. Neither do I sit down to write something substantial all the time. However, there are things that every person cannot help. It might be active or passive reaction but the constant factor here is that reaction, which for me is writing.
When I first noticed the man on the footbridge, in close proximity to my place, he hardly occurred to me. Then I saw him again and never turned back – I was on my way to my workplace in the morning. The third time is the day I sit down to write this.
The usual after-dinner walk was a wholesome affair for me for all the wrong reasons and a perceived healthy routine. I never realized till now that it was a purposive attempt to see the unimaginable or rather the unavoidable aspects that creep through the shadows and stand out starkly under the dim neon haze.
He could be a man just like you and me. He could be a father, a husband, a grandfather or even a ‘nobody’. He could be a deranged, a homeless, a loner or an egoist. Yet, to me he looked a sixty something aged person with silver hair and unkempt beard. Disheveled full-sleeve brown shirt and a soiled crème pant over brown socks and brown leather, affordable quality shoe unworn under his dangling feet, he sat there on the damp staircase after a well showered evening in Kolkata.
There was nothing unusual about him as compared to millions of homeless in this city. Yet, there was a certain control about his stature as he sat on the sideway. That is when a bystander’s presence strikes a passerby’s imagination. It is more so, if the passerby is a voracious reader, affirmer and applier of deductive reasoning as proposed by Arthur Conan Doyle, through his gigantic literary character.
He could be a man kicked out of his home by his children or grandchildren for all the several causes that may be easily construed. He might be a madman whom his family members got tired dealing with. He might be an egoist who just could not take any form of mediocrity by his own standards from the people with whom he dwelled. However, definitely, with mosquito netting, shawl and a well-covered pillow you cannot be just another loner or just another vagabond. You have to be put in that position to be there.
An abject violence of humane society norms it was found revolting to the psyche of a social individual as me.

*****

Amazing

This is to keep a tab on what happened today post quarter to one a.m.

After a nightlong party at 'Not just Jazz by the bay' three of us end up at Bade Miyan for food. I go to the the nearby HDFC ATM for money for that's where my salary A/C is. I find a card of 'Sukena S_ne Chant' Card No. 4386 2425 0150 0080. I ask my friends to come over to the ATM as witness. They come. I ask ATM guard for Customer Care No. and he gives me 2856 1818 which is useless. I call up 100 and nobody answers.
I go to the the nearest police officer near Taj Mr. Saukener (Mob. No. +919773094304) and deposit the ATM Card. My friends leave for home before me. I go to Churchgate station and take a taxi for home but think of taking the card no. and name of the person.
I go back to Taj. Contact Mr. Saukener and wait to get the no. Get the details and call back to confirm that I will be available for any help.
This is to let know whosoever it may concern that I did what I thought was right and will be available for any assistance.